One night
I listened
to a song
that rose
upward
as a bird
searching
lost paradise.
Found a tree,
white-blooming
at the gate
of paradise:
a deserted misty
morning-garden.
Walked among flowers,
enjoying colours
with my eyes,
waiting for
the unknown man
in the garden of youth.
Todos los derechos pertenecen a su autor. Ha sido publicado en e-Stories.org a solicitud de Inge Offermann.
Publicado en e-Stories.org el 13.06.2010.
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